


(Bring Me) Down to Earth

by TriumphShouts



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rope Bondage, Safety, Stripping, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 14:44:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriumphShouts/pseuds/TriumphShouts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moist is still flying high after his day of fast talking and faster thinking - sometimes he just can't seem to calm down. Adora Belle Dearheart gives her fiancée what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Bring Me) Down to Earth

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Спусти меня с небес на землю](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3135113) by [morcabre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morcabre/pseuds/morcabre)



> 'Spike' is Moist's nickname for Adora - it seemed the most appropriate to use. Comments welcome - be nice :P

It’s not cheesy, somehow. Despite the fact that everyone looks at Spike, sees the black dresses and tall heels and severe look – they all make the same jokes.

When she’s winding the rope around him, carefully but firmly, it’s not a joke.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

When the door to their bedroom closes, Spike slides the bolt home with a pleasing thud. Moist checks the window almost absently (escape route #3), taps the loose floorboard with his foot. His insides are starting to flutter, nervousness and excitement mixing. It’s a been a good day – he flew today, spinning bad news into good – but that leaves him edgy at night sometimes, not able to settle, to sleep. He turned to take off his hat, kick off his shoes, and when he turned back to her, Spike was leaning against door still.

“You’re so tense you’re going to start levitating” She commented dryly, tapping her cigarette against the doorknob to knock ash free. Moist shrugged. He felt odd in his skin, like it was tighter somehow.

Adora Belle Dearheart crosses to the bed and abandons her cigarette in her bedside ashtray, shedding her coat and turning to carefully hang in in the closet. When she turns back the rope is in her hands. It’s a beautiful thing, black and smooth, made of the finest silk. The first couple of times they had done this with anything that came to hand – scraps of fabric, ties, belts. One day she’d brought this out, and Moist hadn’t liked to ask where she got it.

Moist has a coin in his hands without realising it – making it dance back and forth over his knuckles without really trying. It falls carelessly to the ground when she kisses him, cool lips on his. He wouldn’t mind kissing her forever, the perfect touch of lips, the push of her tongue on his. But Spike pulls back and takes his face in her hands, tilting his head this way and that, examining every inch of him.

“You want it-” Spike starts. She never makes him ask for it, but she always makes him say yes. He says yes before she’s finished speaking, the urgency inside him pushing the words out.

This makes her step back, her gaze like a physical weight on him as she tells him to strip. Moist shrugs his jacket off, pulling his tie over his head without bothering to untie it. He aims for the chair, but if more than a few things end up on the floor, he doesn’t really care.

“Slower” She tells him, settling on the end of the bed, toying with the ends of the rope. Moist takes a deep breath, unbuttons his shirt slowly and carefully. He pulls at the sleeves and folds it carefully before putting it on the chair, then bends to pull his socks off. His skin feels flushed, the cool air of the room a welcome relief.

He flicks the button on his pants, slides them carefully off. Now he’s standing in his underwear, exposed in front of her. Spike holds up a perfectly manicured hand to stop him, stands and loops the rope loosely around his neck so her hands are free. Without making eye contact her hands slide lower, dipping into his underwear to scrape a nail along the side of his cock. Moist shivers at the feeling – he’s fully hard now but he knows he won’t be coming for a long time yet. Spike relives him of his last scrap of clothing, and examines him again, and it’s a comfortable feeling, being assessed but not judged. The rope still hangs around his neck, where it feels oddly heavy – like it’s weighing him down. He knows she’s deciding how she wants him, and that that thought goes straight to his cock. “On the bed, kneeling” Her voice is lower, he can hear the arousal in it.

Moist does as she says quickly, the rope swinging as he kneels on the bed. She takes the end and begins with his left ankle, tying an efficient knot. Already it feels good, the tight loop around his sensitive skin. He kind of loses it after that, listening to her careful breathing as she loops and pulls, criss-crossing his pale skin with the black rope. She pulls a loop around his chest and his breathing becomes shallow, lays a line tight inside his thigh and his toes curl. When she finally finishes, tying the end to his right ankle, it all feels so perfect.

Moist feels secure, grounded and safe. The feeling of flying is great, but this is just as good in the opposite way. Spike has tied him to earth, to her, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Her long fingers and sharp nails check every part of her work, making sure nothing is too tight or too loose. When she tugs gently at the loop around the base of his cock, Moist’s breath hitches and he strains against the rope around his wrists, just a little. Both his hands have been trapped behind his back, and the rope on his ankles is pulling his feet up, making his arch his back. It’s uncomfortable, but he’s always been flexible – it’s more than worth it.

Spike hooks a finger into the rope around his throat and pulls him into another kiss – it unbalances him so if she lets go he’s going to fall flat on his face. The kiss is worth falling on your face for though, deep and long and Moist’s mind goes blank for most of it. When she pulls back she bites at his lip, just hard enough to make it hurt. The little sting in the tail to bring his awareness back here.

She strips her dress off her shoulders in quick, efficient movements, leaving it bunched at her waist. Her breasts are exposed to him, and she pulls him forward again, this time directing his mouth to them. Moist does the best he can, licking and sucking in earnest, the off-balance feeling making him light-headed.

Spike sets him back carefully – he doesn’t fall on his face but a rope does pull uncomfortably inside his thighs and he has to spread his knees as wide as he can to stay upright. She doesn’t bother to take her dress off, just pushes her skirts up and pulls her underwear off, her other hand circling his bound cock. She rides him slowly, the tight heat encompassing him. The rope around the base of Moist’s cock is too tight to allow him to come, so he can do nothing but kneel there as she slides against him. He feels so still, so calm, just waiting here for her to get her pleasure from him. She could leave him like this for ever and he doesn’t know he’d ever be able to care.

Spike clenches and unclenches around him as she comes, silently but digging her nails into his hips enough that Moist knows how she’s feeling. When she climbs off him she moves behind him, so he can’t even see what she’s planning. After a minute her hands find his nipples, pulling and pinching until they’re sore. He’s struggling to get enough air now, the rope stopping him from taking a deep enough breath. Spike’s hands move lower, to give more attention to his trapped cock. He can feel her hips against his, pressed against him. Her mouth finds his ear, and she whispers to him in a serious, low voice.

“Next time, I’m going to fuck you from behind” she tells him, pumping his wet cock. “Push you face down into this bed and…” - she grinds her hips forward against him - “I have a friend making me little something right now”. Moist’s mind fills with that image, and he had no idea that he wanted that so bad. He’s straining his hips right now, trying to get a little more friction, a little more _anything._

“You want to come?” She asks in her driest, more sarcastic tone, and he can’t even speak, just nods and gasps for air. He feels a tug at the rope, and then the tension is being released. All at once the rope around his chest is loose and he can take a deep breath, then the rope around his cock his loose and he’s coming.

Moist slumps back against his fiancée, boneless and totally exhausted. His vision is already starting to grey, even as he thinks he should get up, should help her clean up.

Spike unwinds the rope from his unconscious form, wipes up his mess with a cloth from the bathroom. Sentimentality has never dared come near her, but she can’t help it at the sight of Moist’s naked form sprawled on their bed. After all, no-one can see her fond smile as she climbs in next to him, so there’s no harm. 


End file.
